


The Question Game

by rocketray



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, This is loosely based off personal experience and mixed with what I dream about as I check tables, We gonna have some fun on the ice cream coolers, restaurant AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 03:05:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2213412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketray/pseuds/rocketray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan swore to the deity he didn’t believe in that if he heard his boss’s chipper, “Ry!” one more time he was going to smash every ice cream cone in the vicinity.</p><p>     Instead, he forced a smile and a chuckle and went to check tables.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Question Game

Ryan swore to the deity he didn’t believe in that if he heard his boss’s chipper, “Ry!” one more time he was going to smash every ice cream cone in the vicinity.

Instead, he forced a smile and a chuckle and went to check tables.

Working in a restaurant, in retrospect, was a terrible idea, based on the fact that he resented small talk and indecisive people, but he needed cash and The Starship was the closest thing to a good job he could get right now. It paid alright, bar the fact that he wasn’t in on the tip jar because he was technically still in “training”. But the people were good to him and it was what he needed to give him a reason to put on pants once in a while.

For the most part, his customers were grandparents bringing their grandkids for dinner and ice cream– “No, little Jimmy, you have to eat something of substance before ice cream. What about chicken fingers? Doesn’t that sound yummy?”– but he got the occasional straggler who was clearly too full of hopes and dreams to be from his town. Yes, this was how he met Brendon.

See, Ryan had believed through and through that he’d never see Brendon again. But he can’t say that this is how it actually occurred.

Working the evening shift on a Sunday usually consisted of the perfect, steady stream of customers, but that didn’t seem to be the case today. No, today, Ryan found himself pacing in circles behind the counter, looking for something to clean or an ice cream tub to scrape down or a soft serve machine to refill. Jon told him several times to relax, have a drink, put some music on the jukebox, but Ryan refused. As he nervously sipped at his pepsi, he heard the front door creak open. _Finally._

“Hi there, how’re you?” Jon beat Ryan to the words as a person stepped in, smiling easily.

“Hey, I’m good, you?” The person nodded in a friendly manner toward Jon, who mumbled ‘peachy’ before going back to scraping down the grill.

Ryan, who was standing at the counter, smiled awkwardly. “Hey.” The person gave a little wave.

Close up, Ryan inspected the person as they looked at the ice cream menu board above Ryan’s head. They had dark, semi-shaggy hair and lightly tanned skin to match. They looked as if they’d spent the day at the beach. In fact, Ryan would’ve assumed they had, were they not wearing a long-sleeved button down shirt and jeans. Even Ryan, who practically never wore less than a t-shirt and jeans, at least wore shorts to the beach. No, this person was far too overdressed for the beach.

“Um, sorry?” The voice forced Ryan, whose eyes were unfocused on the person’s chest, out of his trance.

“Oh. Uh, hi. Yeah. Um, what can I get you?”

“A medium, chocolate lover’s chocolate with gummi bears in a cup, please?”

Ryan nodded quickly and got to it, grabbing a dish and walking to the cooler.

“So, are you from around here?”

Ryan looked up for a moment. Usually he was the one that had to initiate the painfully (well, for him at least) awkward small talk. “Uh, yeah, I live right up the street actually.” He said as he was scooping ice cream.

“Oh. Cool.”

Ryan nodded, walking to the counter and opening a plastic container half full of gummi bears. He scooped some on, pressing them into the ice cream with the back of the spoon.

“So do you, like, have a name?”

What the hell kind of game was this person playing? “Um, I’m Ryan.”  
“Hi. I’m Brendon.” Brendon. Cool. Ryan handed him the ice cream and a spoon then rang in the order.

“Well, nice to meet you. Just the one?” Brendon nodded. “$3.05, please.” Brendon handed over a five and Ryan gave him change and his receipt.

“Thanks.” Brendon nodded and left.

Well, that was weird.

*

The week passed. Ryan only came in for the evening shift on Sundays, so he almost forgot about Brendon until next Sunday.

“Your boyfriend’s been asking about you.” Pete, his boss, smirked as Ryan scrubbed furiously at a table to get the fucking caramel some kid managed to adhere to the surface off.

“What boyfriend? I’m not dating anyone.” Pete knew damn well that Ryan was bisexual, and there was no end to the reminders that he knew. Endless teasing– in a friendly way, like a father would; and Pete might as well have been his father.

“No? He’s come in every day this week. He’s cute. Dark hair, tan?”  
“We tend to get a lot of those, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“Uh… shit, what’d he say his name was? B… hm, B something? Said you guys talked or something last week.”

Ryan thought a moment. “Ohh, _Brendon_.”

Pete lit up, “Yeah! You know him?”

“We talked while I got him ice cream once.”

“Well? What do you think, potential?”

“He’s alright.” Ryan muttered, proceeding to groan and drown the still present caramel in cleaner.

Exactly 42 minutes before closing (Ryan always counted down to closing), Brendon strolled in. Pete was at the counter this time, as Ryan was doing dishes.

“Hi! Brendon, right?” Pete grinned widely. Ryan almost froze at the words, his hand instead slipping on the tray he was scrubbing.

“Yeah, and you’re Pete… you also seem to be the only employee here with a nametag.”

“I’m the owner, actually.” Pete corrected politely– since when was Pete polite? – ”Employees come and go, but I’ll be sticking around for much longer than I’m welcome.”

Brendon laughed a little. Ryan couldn’t help smiling, he sounded so relaxed. _Nothing_ like the awkward conversation they’d had the previous week. Ryan dried the tray and walked toward the counter, watching Brendon’s smile widen. Ryan blushed– what the fuck?

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Well! I’m gonna go finish the dishes.” Pete interjected, walking off with a wave of his hand.

Ryan rolled his eyes, smiling. “Sorry, he’s kind of...” he shrugged. “Um, what can I get you?”

“Medium chocolate lover’s chocolate with gummi bears, please.”

The order sounded semi-familiar until Ryan realized Brendon had ordered it last time as well. Ryan nodded and worked on the order.

“So, how old are you?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, “I’m, uh, 16. You?”

“Oh. Same.”

Ryan nodded, “But the mental age of someone who eats chocolate ice cream with gummi bears.” He mumbled as he walked over, handing over the dish and a spoon.

Brendon pouted in false hurt. “Hey, I am very mature.”

“Whatever you say, _sir_.” Ryan smirked as he rang in the order and Brendon blushed, handing over $3.05 exactly. Ryan deposited the cash in the drawer and gave Brendon his receipt. Brendon seated himself at a table adjacent to the counter.

“So, it’s my turn to ask you something.”

Ryan swore he saw something flicker over Brendon’s features. “Yeah?” Brendon dug into his ice cream.

“Why do you keep coming here?”

“Sugar fix.”

“Pete said you asked about me.”

“‘Cause you seemed cool.”

“You’re weird.”

“I know. I get that a lot.”

Ryan studied him a minute. Weird.

*`*

Weeks passed, the question game continuing. Ryan and Brendon became… friends.

Then, for the first time, Brendon showed up with someone.

It shouldn’t have bothered Ryan, but it did.

They were really fucking close.

It was earlier on in the evening, people were coming in for dinner, Ryan was keeping busy, but at the same time, he was _occupied_.

Once the cloud of customers had dispersed from around the counter, Brendon and his… person walked to the counter from the arcade area. Brendon’s arm was around them.

“Ryan, hey, this is my friend, Dallon.”

Ryan smiled and nodded, Dallon offered a small wave.

“What can I get you guys?”

Brendon seemed a bit confused, snapping out of it before they both ordered food.

Ryan spied on them, almost knocking Jon over as he walked into the kitchen.

“Shit– sorry, man.” Ryan backed up, tearing his gaze away from the pair at the table adjacent from the counter.

“Dude, what’s going on with you? You seem spaced. Like, more than usual.”

“Uh, nothing.” Ryan walked around Jon, grabbing a spray bottle and a rag from under the counter and walking to check tables.

At the end of the night, Dallon and Brendon were heading out when Brendon told Dallon he’d be out in a second.

“Hey.” He said. Ryan’s back was turned as he scraped down the ice cream tubs in the cooler.

“Hi.”

“I have a question for you.”

“What?”

“I have a question.”

Ryan turned around, placing the spade in the small well attached to the side of the cooler. “What’s your question?”

“What are you thinking right now?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking, dude.”

“Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“You really want to know?”

Brendon nodded.

“I think that you should let that gorgeous guy take you home.” Ryan deadpanned.

Brendon’s eyes went huge. “Ryan… I’m… Dallon and I aren’t… he’s my _friend_ , Ryan.”

“Yeah, and you seemed pretty friendly.” Ryan grabbed the spade and went back to scraping down the ice creams.

“Ry. Please, look at me.”

Ryan spun around again. “What?”

“He’s my friend. Ryan…” Brendon looked distressed, “Look… I… my parents kicked me out, alright? And Dallon’s letting me crash at his. His parents are a lot… better. About things that my parents aren’t.”

And Ryan understood. “Shit– Bren, I didn’t know– and you’re… fuck, I just assumed… are you even… uh?”

“Gay? Yeah. I’m really fucking gay.”

“Oh. Um, cool.” There was a momentary silence before Ryan blurted, “I’m bi.”

*`*`*

There was a short period where everything was perfect between them. Two weeks (actually two days because of Ryan’s shift) went without event, just Brendon and Ryan talking and Brendon eating ice cream. On the last of the two days, Ryan even sat down at the table with Brendon.

But, on the third week, when Brendon showed up, Ryan looked like death. Hangovers were always the worst on work days. Pete told him to tough it out while Jon told him to go home; Ryan just wanted to hit himself over the head with a chair.

Brendon strolled in, grinning until he observed Ryan’s ghostly pale face and the person reprimanding him for fucking up their order. Okay, dude, you’re in an establishment that has an arcade and sells ice cream. Did you _really_ assume the chicken burger wouldn’t be fried? But Ryan didn’t say that out loud. Couldn’t. Probably would’ve told the customer to shove the chicken up their ass along with the stick that was already in there if he didn’t have to be polite.

Ryan apologized quietly and offered the customer a refund in the most sincere voice he could muster. They refused and stormed off. Yeah, Pete was going to kill him. Brendon hurried over as Ryan leaned heavily on the counter. God, he was going to throw up.

“Ryan, are you alright?”

“Yeah, just. Headache.” He excused weakly.

“You shouldn’t be here. You should be at home, resting.”

Ryan shook his head, “The world’s not gonna stop wanting to eat here for a day so I can rest.”

Brendon frowned, “Well, the world has Jon and Pete.”

Ryan laughed slightly. “I’m not going home, Brendon.”

“Ryan, come on. Let me drive you back to your house and you can sleep or I’ll take care of you, or–”

God no. This was not happening. Brendon was not going to his house, where his father– “No, Brendon.” Ryan said firmly. “Now, what can I get you?”

Brendon looked confused and a bit hurt. “Uh, just a pepsi.”

Ryan nodded, okay. Easy enough. He grabbed a cup and filled it with ice and pepsi. He swayed, head going light, and grabbed the counter. “I’m fine.” He said quickly, anticipating Brendon’s remark. He handed the cup over to Brendon. Brendon took it and paid.

“Ryan?”  
“I’m _fine_ , Brendon.”

“Yeah, I know… Just, come sit down with me for a minute, hm? No one else is here, it’s almost closing time.”

Ryan hesitated, looking around as if to make sure no one else was there. “Fine.”

Brendon smiled, a muffled kind of triumphant, before sitting at his usual table. Ryan joined him, walking cautiously.

They were silent for a while, Brendon studying Ryan over his drink. Ryan could feel Brendon’s eyes boring into him as Ryan rubbed his slightly reddened eyes.

“So, how smashed did you get last night?”

Ryan froze. “Does it even matter?”  
“Yeah, because you shouldn’t even be… why? Where did you even…”

“I’m not going to discuss this, Brendon.”

“Okay, then.” Brendon said quietly. “Ryan?”

“What?”

“Sorry.”

Ryan looked up at Brendon. He really did look sincere. Ryan sighed, “Fuck. Brendon… I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m just… y’know. And that’s no excuse. But…” Ryan shrugged.

Brendon was silent.

“Brendon, I… I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a while…”

Brendon raised an eyebrow, eyes still fixed on his cup.

“It doesn’t really have anything to do with what we’ve been talking about.” Ryan hesitated, his head and heart throbbing now. “I, um, I like you. Like, like you.” God, this was so high school. Brendon looked up at him finally, expression unreadable. Ryan nearly choked. Fuck. Brendon didn’t like him back. Brendon thought he was a lovesick shithead. Brendon hated him. Brendon would never come back. Brendon– was kissing him?!


End file.
